


Extra Room

by aislingdoheanta



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 4x09, Episode Related, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislingdoheanta/pseuds/aislingdoheanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey and Ian go to get Ian’s stuff the day after Mickey brings Ian back to his house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extra Room

**Author's Note:**

> Posted originally to my [tumblr.](http://saras-almanac.tumblr.com/post/86214272804/fic-a-day-in-may-day-nineteen)

Mickey paced as he waited for Ian to finish showering. He felt on edge, well he’d felt on edge for a while. But even more on edge since he carried Ian home last night. He’d known what he was risking if he took him home, but it’s not like he could leave the kid freezing to death on the side of a fucking street in Chicago.

Or worse let some old fucker molest him.

He hadn’t thought he was as transparent as he was but Svetlana’s face said it all. The bitch  _knew_. Hell she may even remember Ian from that day. It’s not like they ever fucking talked about it. He didn’t make a habit of talking to her about anything other than work and money.

She had left with only a glare in his direction. He hadn’t responded. What the fuck was he supposed to say? He didn’t owe her an explanation. He didn’t owe her anything.

He had Ian, who had woken up in the middle of the night to fuck him, showering and Mickey had to figure out what the fuck to do. He couldn’t send him away. He just got Ian back and he had to figure out where they fuck he’d been and what he was doing now.

If only he could actually ask the kid. Mickey was afraid of the answers if he was honest. He didn’t really want to know everything, not yet, because of what he might find out. What if Ian took off again?

No. He was going to figure this shit out. He’d have Ian call his family. He’d learn where he’d been. Ian would tell him why he started working at that stupid club. Maybe Ian would want to stay. Maybe Mickey would be able to ask him to stay, would be able to tell him he wanted Ian to stay.

“Hey Mickey,” Ian greeted as he pulled on the same clothes he was wearing last night.

“You have other clothes?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah. They’re at the house I’ve been staying at.” Ian shrugged into his shirt.

“We can go get your shit if you want,” Mickey suggested throwing Ian a warmer shirt.

Ian caught it and smirked. “You inviting me to stay here, Mick?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey shot back. “I just figured it was the winter and you might need something warmer than a fucking sleeveless shirt.”

Ian laughed. “You got a jacket you wanna let me wear?”

“You call your family?” Mickey asked tossing Ian an extra jacket before pulling his on.

“No.”

“You should. I know they’re worried about you,” Mickey said.

“Don’t, Mick,” Ian said, standing in front of him. “I…I’m just not ready yet, yeah?”

He knew that Ian was going through a hard time right now. The kid was so high last night he couldn’t even focus on Mickey’s face. But the Ian who he’d known a few months ago wouldn’t stay away from his family.

But that Ian had disappeared, ran off. Maybe this was the new Ian. The Ian that Mickey had helped create. The Ian that did drugs and ignored his family and fucked around with anyone who’d have him. The thought made Mickey want to throw up.

“Fine. Whatever.” Mickey wrapped a scarf around his neck. “You can stay here till you’re ready to go home.”

Ian’s smile was fucking blinding. It was just like the type he used to have before…everything got fucked up.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that. I have extra room,” Mickey grumbled out. Why the fuck was it so hard to just  _tell_  him that he wanted him to stay. That he didn’t know what he would do if Ian was suddenly taken away from him again.

But instead Mickey just stormed out of the house. “You coming firecrotch? I don’t know where the fucking place is.”

Ian laughed but started walking. It was a long trip, they had to take the L for a bit, but it wasn’t bad. They didn’t really talk. Mickey thought it was because neither of them really knew what to say.

It was strange because before, being with Ian had always given Mickey this weird strength. Not physical or anything sappy or fucking romantic. It was like there was feeling of invincibility he had with Ian, like nothing could have ever hurt them. That they could face anything, handle anything. All their problems seemed so far away, so small when they were together.

But Mickey guessed that had changed the day Terry caught them.

Mickey forced those thoughts from his head because he couldn’t be thinking that right now. He just, _couldn’t_. He had to focus on getting Ian sober and shit, from keeping Svetlana out of their fucking business. He had to try and get Ian to go back to his family before they brought a riot to his house.

Turned out Ian had been squatting. The fucker had been sleeping in an abandoned house with his crack head of a mother and some crazy woman in the middle of fucking winter. Mickey listened with half an ear as Ian gathered his shit and said goodbye to the woman. He told her to tell Monica goodbye.

Mickey wanted to punch something. It was his fault Ian had been staying in this shithole, that Ian had felt driven form his own fucking home.

The journey back to the Milkovich house was even quieter and tenser. Ian waited until they were back in Mickey’s room before saying anything.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck is wrong with you?” Ian asked, throwing his bag on the floor.

“You show me that you were fucking homeless in the middle of winter and you ask me what’s wrong? The fuck you think is wrong?” Mickey snapped.

“You didn’t care when I left,” Ian said, his voice hard. “Why do you care now?”

Mickey didn’t say anything.

“I mean, Jesus Mickey. I’m not some fucking charity case. I don’t need your fucking pity,” Ian snapped. “I was fine before you came storming into that fucking club.”

“You didn’t fucking look fine. Damnit Ian, how long have you been taking shit?” Mickey asked.

“I really don’t fucking need a lecture,” Ian snapped. “I gotta go to work.”

“Hey!” Mickey grabbed his arm. “Just…wait a fucking second.”

“What Mickey?” Ian asked.

“Are you coming back tonight?” Mickey asked, looking anywhere but at Ian or where his hand still held Ian’s.

Ian sighed. He threw an arm around Mickey’s shoulder, surprising them both. “Yeah Mickey. I’ll come back later.”

Mickey only nodded and pushed away from Ian. “I still want to know where you’ve been this whole time.”

Ian had laughed. “And I still want you to suck my dick. Sometimes we don’t get what we want.”

Mickey flipped him off as he left.

Mickey felt like he had just gotten whiplash from Ian’s changes in mood. One minute the kid was pissed. One minute he’s all laughs. And the next he’s the Ian he had known. He just wanted to get Ian back to normal.

That didn’t stop Mickey from laying awake that night, waiting for Ian to come back. Or from pretending to be asleep when Ian gently ran a hand through his hair on his way to the makeshift bed Mickey had set up for Ian on the floor. And if he didn’t even attempt sleep until he heard Ian’s breathing level out, that’s was fine. It was just what Mickey did to show that he cared.

If only he could work up the courage to do it when Ian was awake, maybe they’d resolve their shit sooner.


End file.
